


Losing Pieces of Myself

by tomatopudding



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:03:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is not like other kings. The death of every knight it like a personal blow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Pieces of Myself

**Author's Note:**

> My first Merlin fic. I got inspired after season 4 episode 2 while I was being all depressed about Lancelot. I think I meant for him to come into it at some point, but things got out of hand.

Arthur is not like other kings. Many kings see their knights as nameless and faceless, simply pawns to be used and discarded. But Arthur is different. Arthur cares. He cares so much that it hurts him deeply every time a knight under his command falls victim to the latest threat to Camelot. 

Every time one of his soldiers dies, a piece of Arthur’s heart dies with them. This is often so physically and emotionally painful that Arthur must spend the next day or two in bed, his chest uncomfortably constricted, headache throbbing between his eyes.

Arthur mourns for each knight equally, regardless of how long they have been in his service or how they died. He feels his responsibility to them is too great and that he owes them nothing less than this. 

Every knight who dies, kills Arthur a little on the inside and it worries him, it frightens him. He fears that one day he may suffer a loss too great. Throughout it all, every day that he’s spent in bed, tossing and turning and soaking his sheets with the sweat of despair, Merlin has been there. Merlin has always been there with whispered words and damp clothes, soothing his heated skin and comforting him.

He has nightmares sometimes, times when he’ll jerk awake with tears on his cheeks and the breath caught in his throat. Somehow, Merlin always knows. He is there when Arthur remembers where he is, the terrible visions of his nightmare fading to a dull roar. Merlin never asks, never questions. He just holds his Prince tight and soothes his fear, whispering again and again, _I’m alive, I’m alive._

It’s at these times when Arthur is the most afraid. Arthur is afraid that, if Merlin dies, he will die too. The dependency makes his heart clench and his mouth dry. At those times, all his can do is dig blunt fingernails in Merlin’s shoulders and mirror is manservant’s words with his own, _You’re alive, You’re alive._


End file.
